


One Crow Sitting on the Windowsill

by Goldstone_Wolf



Series: BTHB--MultiFandom [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Blood, But the comfort's really small, Hostage Videos, Hurt Simon Snow, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Injury, Violence, Whump, fanfiction written by someone who's only ever read fanfiction, possibly canon-typical violence, technically, torture scenes, tws for:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf
Summary: Baz is abroad when he gets sent a video from Simon. It’s not what he expects.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: BTHB--MultiFandom [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760653
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	One Crow Sitting on the Windowsill

**Author's Note:**

> TWs are in tags. I have never read anything other than fanfiction for these characters. Therefore, they are bound to be OOC. Sorry, I’m working on getting the courage to order the first couple of books from Amazon while they’re half off, but that runs the risk of being caught by my (youth staff) parents.  
> Written in Third Person Limited.

**Baz**

Since Simon was the fabled Chosen One, it was bound to happen one day.

One day, someone was going to capture him. It didn’t matter whether or not he wasn’t really the Chosen One anymore. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t really of any use to them (at least, that was what he said. Baz had multiple instances that pointed to the contrary in a thousand ways). It didn’t even matter that he was really difficult to take anywhere due to his wings and tail.

One day, someone was going to decide that they needed to use him as a bargaining chip.

Apparently, they had waited until Baz and Bunce both happened to be gone for some time. Bunce was _supposed_ to be at home that weekend, but apparently some sort of family emergency had cropped up. Simon had insisted he’d be fine, but Baz had chartered the next plane back as soon as he heard the news. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to go until the next day, but Simon had promised that he’d be there.

He’d promised, and instead Baz had returned from a quick trip to the closest store to find he’d been sent a video from his loveable idiot.

At first, he didn’t think anything of it, ignored the email and finished up his essay. But then he realised something—Simon wasn’t one to send him one thing and then just stop. If he were sending videos in, it was doubtlessly something about some cute little animal he was fawning over. Then there’d be another sixteen or so following. But never one. _Never one_.

_So why had he only sent in one this time?_

Some part of Baz had realized what had happened before he even jumped back on the tab. There was nothing about the email other than the video and the fact it was from Simon. No subject. No other words. For a moment, he hesitated before opening it. It was something bad.

For the first couple of seconds, all he could hear was shuffling. Then a light turned on, and he nearly snarled where he was. Simon was tied to a chair, wings fanned out and held in the air with something drilled through the wing membrane. Already, a dark bruise marred his cheek, stretching down to more finger-shaped ones over his jaw and neck. Whoever this monster was, they had nearly strangled him when they attacked. Or maybe they had just done it for fun.

“Aw, come on, Snow, wake up.” An unrecognizable voice mused, and someone wearing a mask stalked into view. With a gloved hand, they grabbed Simon’s chin and yanked his face up so he was looking at the camera. Half-closed eyes held Baz’s for just a moment, dazed and confused and pained. He was hurt. He was already hurt, had been for a little while, and Baz hadn’t even known because he had brushed it off for something else. “Now, I’m sure Bazzy is watching from his computer, so let’s keep this short and sweet. Alright, Snowy?” There was a knife in their hand, and Simon’s eyes opened just a little bit more.

“No. Please.” He struggled against the bindings holding him to the chair. It wasn’t any use. Whatever they were using, it was too strong for him. “Please.”

“Aw, come on. We’re just going to have a little fun.” Teasingly, the person traced around Simon’s eyes, under them and then over his pulse point. As the tip of the blade slipped around his jawline, it cut a small slit into his skin. Not enough to kill, but enough to bleed. As red welled up on Simon’s skin, the person half-laughed. “Oops. I slipped.”

_Screw you._ Baz snarled in the back of his mind, not wanting to watch but desperately wanting to make sure the video didn’t end with Simon dying.

The person looked up, tracing patterns in Simon’s wings. “Now, Bazzy, I’m sure you want to kill me more than nothing else in the world, but I’ll do you a little favour. I’m going to have my fun with Simon, and you’re going to go to his apartment just like you normally would. If you leave now…well, I’ll know immediately. And if you kill my little messenger,” Something tapped on the window. Turning, Baz met the beady gaze of a single black crow. It cawed and flapped its wings. “Then I’ll know, and I’ll kill Simon. But not the way you think.” Simon let out a cry of pain and Baz turned to see that the person had stabbed the knife deep into Simon’s wing membrane. They cupped a hand around his mouth, yanked his head back again, and dragged the knife around in the fragile skin there. Behind the makeshift gag, Simon let out a few muffled screams, face screwed up in pain.

Looking at the crow, Baz snarled, “I’m going to kill you. Maybe not now, but one day. I’m going to track you down, wherever you are, and I’m going to tear you apart.”

“…ember, Bazzy! You kill my messenger or you come too early, or you try to find me, and I’ll melt your precious Snow! See you soon!” The video ended, and Baz stared down at it for a few seconds. He knew what he had to do.

That didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

+++

The next day, he barely managed to hold it together in the taxi.

“Are you sure you’re alright, lad? You look a little pale.” The driver, a sweet old woman, had asked, and he nodded while still staring out the window. He wasn’t alright. He was terrified. Somewhere, Simon was still hurt. Maybe he was even in the clutches of that monster.

But the crow was flying along beside them, so he had to trust that Simon was still alive.

Walking calmly up to Simon’s flat was hell in and of itself. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find there. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know, but he had to get there. He needed to.

Simon needed him to.

Fumbling with the keys, he muttered a few curses under his breath. The lady who was trying to get into her room a few doors down heard and flushed, although he didn’t care. He needed to get to Simon and he needed to get to him _now_. The crow, being annoying as always, simply sat on the railing and occasionally pecked at the paint job.

When he finally opened the door, it fluttered off.

He closed it behind him, trying not to breathe too much. There was blood thick in the air, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know where it was coming from. Quietly, he made his way into the kitchen, glancing around. “Simon? You here?”

There was a groan from the couch.

It wasn’t very loud, but Baz could just make out what sounded like his own name. Well, really, it was just “az” but that was enough. Enough for him to recognise the voice, to know who it belonged to.

Rushing to the couch, he dropped to his knees in the carpet at Simon’s side and let his hands hover over his boyfriend if just for a moment. There was blood everywhere, on him and the couch and on the floor and the table and plastering his clothes to his skin. “I’m sorry, I’m so—I’m sorry.” He grabbed Simon’s red-stained hands and glanced up and around for—what was he looking for he needed something.

“No, I—it’s okay, Baz. It’s okay.” Simon choked out, pressing Baz’s hand to his jaw.

“No, it’s not. You’re not okay, it’s not—” Sitting up, he pulled Simon close. For the first time, he realized there was something other than blood under his fingers. Thick strips of cloth had been wrapped across Simon’s body. “What?”

“You…held up your end of the deal…they never said they wouldn’t fix me up, too.” Coughing weakly, Simon let out a quiet groan and then curled into Baz’s chest, wings flopping to the sides. They were wrapped, too, but already Baz could see where the membrane had been punctured. It would take time to grow back, and it’d be painful to do so. For the time being, Simon was rendered flightless. “It hurt, but it’s okay. Just…just stay here for a little bit. Okay?”

For a few moments, Baz hesitated. If he’d gotten here faster— _no, he would have been dead. Think about it. We’re just lucky this person is unpredictable in a good way._ Running his fingers through Simon’s bloody hair, he pulled him a little bit closer. Not much. Just as much as he dared.

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, but whenever someone canonically has wings, I will find them and I will break their wings. I’m going off the assumption that wing membrane is very delicate, by the way, because I’ve never read the books (I’m probably going to order them, though, because I do have amazon prime for a little while and a free summer because both of my youth group’s trips have been cancelled).   
> Also, crows are a gregarious species, which is why seeing one alone is not only unusual but also considered an omen.   
> G1—Hostage Video


End file.
